


Savage

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, Dubious Consent, F/M, Human Meg, Knotting, Mating, Meg is 16, Pet Castiel, Rough Sex, Slavery, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People could still buy and sell angels to keep privately in their households. They were a status symbol of sorts, as they became more and more rare. Angels were practically wiped out in the wild. Ever since liberal activist groups rallied people to push for legislation against using angels for slave labor, questioning their autonomy and their intellect, they’d been taken out of the manual labor work force as well as any other area that humans could profit off them, such as the porn industry and angel fighting rings. Of course, that only made the illegal activities more profitable, albeit riskier. Angels had essentially been reduced to pets, household creatures to be kept and cared for. But they were still savage things. And they were in high demand to be used for the more unsavory things humans enjoyed than just keeping them as pets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savage

Meg didn’t suspect for most of her childhood that her father was anything more than a shrewd business man who worked strange hours. Azazel’s business associates would come to their house sometimes, large men who loomed above her and smiled with shark teeth and dark eyes, they drove fancy cars and wore expensive suits. The nanny always took Meg away to isolated corners of their sprawling house when the other men were over.

As a kid, Azazel was simply her father; he could do no wrong, she had no reason to suspect him of anything because he was a good father. Even if he was a bit absent, he lavished her with attention when he could, sent her to the best private schools, kept a watchful eye on her comings and goings. She was often taken everywhere by his intimidating body guards.

It wasn’t until other children became aware enough to put names to things and gossips began to spread in high school that Meg started to wonder about her family, her father, their wealth. She had no reason to question him as a child, she had idolized him and placed him on a pedestal. Growing in to her teenage years, she was as much a daddy’s girl as she had been but that spark of teenage rebellion was easy to light and she started snooping around.

Meg began to develop a certain resentment for how sheltered her life was, despite it’s comfortable privilege she felt smothered and overly protected. When her brother Tom turned eighteen he started to work with their father. Meg could always wheedle secrets out of him, he’d never been able to deny her what she wanted when she was pig tailed and bare foot, he used to cover for her when she tracked mud through the house or lost a frog in the kitchen. She plied him for information, playing concerned, and Tom always answered her in a way he thought he was evasive enough yet satisfying her curiosity, but Meg could read between the lines.

She taught herself how to pick locks and snuck through their house into her father’s secret places, his office, his bedroom, the basement. She found some of his files, receipts, dossiers on his partners. Daddy dear was certainly a busy man. Meg spent her fifteenth year slowly piecing together information about her father’s illicit activities. It didn’t particularly surprise her.

In her sixteenth year, Ruby - a friend since grade school - became more than just a friend. Meg doubted that her father was ignorant to the fact that they do more than just study up in her room. But she wondered just how much he knew about how they would sneak out when he’s away on business to go to clubs where they don’t check ID’s if you’ve got a pair of tits, or how they’ve both pierced their belly buttons together, or how Ruby’s mother is a hypochondriac and she always has pills filched from their medicine cabinet. Her father smiled fondly at Ruby, and treated her like another daughter. Perhaps he knew and didn’t find it particularly note worthy the trouble they got up to. Meg knew it was nothing compared to the trouble her father got up to.

Meg did her research online and searched papers to confirm information when it came to the things she was pulling from her father’s cabinets to figure out just what he was getting up to. After months of digging, she eventually had an address scrawled down on a scrap of paper that she was ninety nine percent certain had something good in it. From what she’d gathered it was an important place, there were a lot of notes about legal operations that passed through the building as a front and contractor’s receipts for renovations. Meg was intrigued.

Sneaking around and getting into her father’s business behind his back was probably not the safest sort of thing, Meg knew that, but she was bored and curious and resentful of still being treated like a child. Though she knew if she got caught she would cry and put on her best pout and play up her role as daddy’s girl. She wouldn’t get in too serious trouble. She knew with complete faith that her father wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

Waiting for a night that she knew her father and a lot of his associates would be out on the town for a charity event - they were very good at maintaining a respectable reputation she noticed - Meg decided that would be a good night to sneak out, when she knew most of them would be away from whatever was in this place. Sure, there’d still be guards, but Meg crossed her fingers and hoped for low traffic as she swung her feet out of her bedroom window to make her escape.

The guards that watched the house, and her, often dallied about under her window to stop her from sneaking out. But she balanced on the small ledge that skirted around the house and slowly made her way over to the gutter drainpipe. Instead of going down, she shimmied up and pulled herself onto the roof. Meg made her way to the other side of the house and then slid down another drainpipe.

She had her combat boots on, tight black jeans, a dark purple tee that was covered with her black leather jacket. Perfect for slinking around in the shadows. Meg knew how to be quiet. Where the blind spots were in her father’s video surveillance of the yard. What tree was close enough to jump the fence.

Meg made it off her father’s estate and walked through the upscale neighborhoods until she reached a commercial area with a bus line. She caught a bus to the warehouse district where the address was located. Making her way closer, Meg stayed in the smaller alley’s and looped around in circles towards the address, scoping it out and counting the entrances and exits, how many guys were lurking around. She took her time, patient enough, excited by the thrill of her illicit behavior.

Finally settling on a door to pick that was left alone for five minutes between rotations of the guards walking the perimeters, she wriggled her way under a loose spot in the chain link fence around the warehouse, snagging a rip in her jacket and rubbing dirt into her clothes. She snuck in and slipped through dark corridors twisting and turning until she could convince herself no one was following her. There were a lot of locked doors, but she eventually came to a large open area that had a tall cage of metal bars and rows of bleachers around it. It looked like some kind of fighting ring. Meg almost wanted to laugh, if all this security was really for some dog fights or something.

She circled around the bleachers and wound into another hallway that led to a staircase going down, and down, and down. It was cold and dark in the lower level, cinder block walls unfinished and rough against the palm of her hand while she felt her way around. Coming on another locked door, Meg decided to try picking the lock; it seemed like she’d found an area worth hiding things in. With her small palm flashlight in her teeth she made quick work of the lock and shone her light into the room.

There was a small waist high cage in the corner, a dark skinned and dark winged angel crouched inside. He snarled at her and rattled the bars of his cage, teeth bared and the whites of his eyes shining in the path of her flashlight.

Holy shit. Her dad was keeping angels. The arena was for angel fights. As she swept her flashlight around the room to find pieces of furniture that she’d only ever seen on websites in pornos, she realized they were being used for more than fighting.

Meg let herself out of the angel’s room, locking it behind her; he was too loud and riled up. She had to lean against the wall and catch her breath while she processed what she had found. It was no wonder her dad was so rich if he was in the illegal angel business.

People could still buy and sell angels to keep privately in their households. They were a status symbol of sorts, as they became more and more rare. Angels were practically wiped out in the wild. Ever since liberal activist groups rallied people to push for legislation against using angels for slave labor, questioning their autonomy and their intellect, they’d been taken out of the manual labor work force as well as any other area that humans could profit off them, such as the porn industry and angel fighting rings. Of course, that only made the illegal activities more profitable, albeit riskier. Angels had essentially been reduced to pets, household creatures to be kept and cared for. But they were still savage things. And they were in high demand to be used for the more unsavory things humans enjoyed than just keeping them as pets.

Meg stepped further down the hallway, finding another locked room that she picked her way into. There was a female angel in the cage, pressing herself back as far away from Meg as she could get and hissing. Her hair was bright red, with wings to match, she was a pale and waif thin thing. Meg closed the door behind her.

The next room she found herself in had a male angel with dark tousled hair and black wings. He didn’t make a noise at her intrusion, just leaned towards the front of his cage and watched her curiously. Meg let the door close behind her and she heard the click of an automatic lock. She flipped on the lights to get a better look at this angel. The room was paneled with sound proofing and the floor was covered in soft mats that linked together. There was a rack in this angel’s room. And she noticed a large paneled mirror that was most likely a one way window set in a wall.

She was drawn to the corner with the cage in it when she heard a soft whimper from the angel. He was watching her with pleading eyes, wide and bright blue. A hand was stretched out from his cage, face pressed against the bars and upturned towards her. Meg made her way cautiously over. Most angels in captivity were bred to be docile household pets, but she’d heard of one’s that were still wild, one’s that were trained to be even more savage for a profit. She figured those in her father’s care would be of the latter kind, but this angel, he looked almost frightened.

Meg stepped over to his cage, taking his hand and reaching through the bars to pet him. He cooed at her and rubbed his head into the contact.

"Hey there little angel, you’re a good boy aren’t you?"

He wouldn’t answer her, of course, but some people said they were intelligent enough to understand tone of voice and body language.

"Do you have a name? I bet you don’t. I’ll call you Clarence."

He preened under her attention, pressing his whole body awkwardly against the bars.

"You like that huh Clarence?"

She’d never been face to face with an angel before, close enough to touch him, to listen to the soft little sighs he made when she scratched behind his ear. She wanted to touch his wings, although it looked like they were bound to restrict full extension and flight. They looked soft, sleek, like they were well tended but that was no surprise, the prices on some pay per view websites for pretty angels with impressive wings were phenomenally high.

The cage didn’t have a lock on it, just a series of heavy bolts that twisted a particular way and unlatched the door. She swung it open and bent over slapping her hands on her thighs, waving at him to come out.

"Come on, who’s a pretty little angel, do you want to come out and play?"

For how low the cage was he could only crawl out on his hands and knees. His wings were wrapped with intricate chains that would have been designed to both hobble and decorate, they chimed as he moved. Once he was out, he crouched at her feet, coming up to her waist nearly. Meg reached out and ran her fingers tentatively over the feathers of his wings and the arch of the frame. He pushed his face against her thigh and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Meg chattered inane praise at him while she stroked more surely over his wings, pushing her fingers through the feathers and petting him. He was completely naked, and she could see just how much he enjoyed the attention, cock growing thick between his legs. Meg licked her lips and scratched down the skin between his wings, his spine curving up to her hand. It wasn’t as though she were innocent, by any stretch of the imagination, but angels were different. They were biologically evolved to mate in a different way from humans, despite the similarities to their bodies. The males had a knot at the base of their penis that swelled with a reservoir of semen to be released continuously while they were tied to a mate, and females had a tight ring of muscle at the entrance to their vagina that kept the males tied to them. At least, that’s what Meg had read about on the internet, which wasn’t necessarily factual. But the pictures were fascinating.

Angels were much more interesting in person though. His dick didn’t look too different from other guys, there was a ring of darker skin around the base, but it twitched up happily to bounce against his stomach like every other dick Meg had seen. He brushed his nose against her thigh before pressing forward, trying to bury his face between her legs as he inhaled deeply, hands coming up to her hips and holding her while he nuzzled against her. Meg almost stumbled back but his hold was strong, and she found herself flushing hot and very curious.

"Whoa, hey there, you’re a pretty friendly angel, aren’t you?"

Tightening her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back, he squinted at her as a low rumble of a warning growl was made, lips pulling off his teeth. He rose to his feet in a fluid motion, standing tall enough above her that the top of her head barely came to his shoulder. She hadn’t thought he was so tall, the chains on his wings jangling as they were extended as much as they could, looking to be only about halfway out, straining against the bonds. His arms circled her shoulders and pulled her against him. He was warm, skin smooth over dense muscles, smelling like rain and wet leaves.

The angel hunched forward and pressed his face into her hair and the crook of her neck, sniffing and licking and rubbing his cheek against her. Meg could feel a quiver in the pit of her stomach, and she knew if she reached between her legs she’d be drenched. She knew she shouldn’t, something visceral and deep in her head told her to run and keep running, that he was a dangerous creature, but he only seemed to be interested in a little exploration.

Suddenly his broad hands were at the neck of her purple shirt, ripping it apart like a flimsy rag and pushing underneath.

“Hey! Hey, careful there, I do have to have something to wear back you know.”

His fingers were twisting up under the straps of her bra so before he could tear it off Meg reached under her torn shirt and unclasped it, shrugging out of jacket, shirt and bra. Well, that wasn’t such a hard decision to make.

His hands were everywhere, fingers rough calloused dragging over the sensitive buds of nipples, palms cupping her breasts and squeezing before moving on, nimble fingers skimming around ribs and down the dip of her spine. Warm and firm dragging across her skin he touched every part of her bared body, pinching the nape of her neck and tugging her hair, pulling at her hips and sliding along her curves, down the length of her arms he twisted his fingers up in her hers. The angel hunched forward and nudged her head aside as he bit down the column of her neck and the swoop of collarbone. Little huffs of hot breath made her shiver when he found a spot he liked and sucked livid bruises into pale skin.

Meg was still thinking about trying to twist away from him, about how far the door was. She wondered how far he’d take it, if he was going to hump her leg and take a nap or if he even knew how to work a belt buckle. She was distracted, and conflicted, hands gripping onto his shoulders and nails anchoring into the flesh, when he snapped into quick motion. Twisting a leg around hers and kicking her knee out to unbalance her, he spun her around and slammed her down onto the floor following to drape his heavy body on top of her, face pressed against the mats, the breath knocked from her lungs when her sternum bounced off the floor with the force of it.

Meg panicked. She choked on a startled cry while her hands reached forward to dig into the floor with her nails and pull her body out from under him, but he was too heavy, too strong, straddling the backs of her thighs with one hand pushed down between her shoulder blades keeping her pinned. She twisted her hips and bucked, digging the balls of her feet against the floor to get her knees under her. He made a strange noise, a rough growling sort of sound that made her freeze, it was a low warning. She tossed her head back to look at him over her shoulder, he was running his hands along her back now, brushing wavy hair from the back of her neck, and he started making little clicking noises, head tilted, blue eyes blinking at her.

Meg scowled and started trying to squirm away again. He kneeled up and hauled her by the hips until she was kneeling too, his strong thighs still bracketed outside hers, rough hands circling her waist to tug at her belt. He ended up ripping the buckle off and pulling the button off her jeans when he tugged them forcefully down her hips. Meg reached behind herself to swat at him, long nails catching him in the stomach and leaving three bright red furrows. She was pleased when he started to bleed.

The angel grabbed her by the wrist, wrenching her other arm back behind her and pulling them together so he could hold both wrists at the same time, pinning them against her back. She had fallen forward onto her shoulder with her face pressed awkwardly against the mat with her arms behind her, his grip feeling like it would break the bones in her wrist.

Half sobbing with futility and half growling back at him with indignity, Meg felt his cock sliding between her legs, his free hands pulling her hips back and up enough while she tried to pull away, but then he was pressing in with one quick, deep thrust, fitting their bodies together and it was too much too quick, tendrils of sharp stabbing pain lashing through her stomach and she wailed, still trying to jerk away from him, panting with erratic shallow breath.

The angel ground his hips forward against her, buried all the way inside, as he draped over her back, arms still pulled behind her and painfully pressed between their bodies when he began nipping along the curve of her shoulder. With a few steady deep breaths that she forced, her body relaxed a little of the tense ache of struggling, and she felt pleasure coiling in her belly when he angled his hips down.

He was giving little grunts right next to her ear when he started to pull out and thrust with a brutal rhythm, she could hear the squelch of how wet she was and the tinkle of his chains as his wings rustled. He nuzzled against her neck, hips softening their pace, then there was a burst of intense pain where he bit into the flesh of her neck and latched on, hard enough she could feel blood trickling down, and he started fucking her roughly enough she couldn’t decide if it hurt more in her cunt or her neck.

Then she started feeling the pressure, a slowly increasing stretch, and Meg didn’t realize she was sobbing ‘nonono’, until she stopped with a stuttering scream as his knot flared and he locked himself inside her. She could feel his cock twitching, base swollen obscenely wide, pumping come inside her and only then did he release her wrists, one hand slipping around her waist and pressing against the soft spot beneath her belly button. Meg could feel her body clenching around him trying to push him out but she was starting to float away from the pain, mind hazy and light, her neck throbbing and her cunt just a steady ache.

He released his bite on her neck at least, licking at the skin and pressing his lips there, crooning into her ear and rhythmically pressing against her belly while he released inside her. The muscles in her legs, her stomach, her arms all burned. She was afraid her wrist might be broken, pulling her sore arms back down to cradle under her chest. The angel was kissing the expanse of her shoulders while his hands pet up and down her side, hips still giving small twitches. She wondered distantly how long an angel’s knot was supposed to last, if it was different with human females, if they could slip out easier, if he’d let her go.

After a time that stretched out, trapped underneath him and too tired and sore to fight anymore, he pulled out from her and she tried to crawl forward, but then his hands were on her hips and his face was pressed between her legs. He was licking into the slick flesh of her, tongue wiggling into her aching hole, and it felt so good, soothing swollen tender skin that was too sensitive but he lapped at her gently, along the length of her cunt with broad swipes. She felt the tension in her belly building again and instead of fighting it this time, Meg canted her hips up and pushed back against his face, pleased little snuffing noises from him, until all the throbbing ache crested and broke, rippling through her hot and trembling, breath hitched and eyes squeezed shut.

She collapsed onto the floor, curling on her side, hands weakly trying to pull her jeans back up. The angel fitted himself along her body, one leg tossed over her hip to pull her closer to him, his bound wings flapping and trying to cover her. Fingers tangled into her hair, pulling at it and soothing out tangles. He was grooming her.

Meg groaned when she finally realized that he’d knotted her, marked her, made her come and was now grooming her. She didn’t know if you could be any more mated to an angel. Unless you got pregnant. She felt sick to her stomach when she pressed a hand to her belly and he covered it with his own, humming contentedly against the deep bite mark on her neck. Feebly trying to scoot away from him, he only wrapped himself tighter around her.

Meg started to sob with frustrated little cries she tried to swallow, but he must have heard her, making those soft clicking noises against her ear again like he was trying to soothe her. It pissed her off.

Resigning herself to being trapped until he fell asleep and she hoped she could sneak away, Meg felt her own consciousness starting to slip, eyes fluttering closed and body exhausted. She didn’t want to be found here like this in the morning, she couldn’t be, but she was afraid of how territorial the more savage angels could be and what he might do to keep her close.


End file.
